


Return

by piades



Series: Returnverse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anakin isn't aware of that however, BYO shipping goggles, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Past Abuse, Recovery, handwaved war for the sake of interpersonal drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-02-01 09:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12702021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piades/pseuds/piades
Summary: After the war, Anakin's Master is returned to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a WIP. It's long and challenging and I wanted to blurt something short and brainless. It's 3 AM so this may be more brainless than I intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for story warnings etc.

When Obi-Wan disappeared during the war, it quickly became apparent that his fate had not been kind. Evidence of his knowledge, all of his knowledge, falling into enemy hands was everywhere. You could count it in deaths.

Anakin refused to entertain the idea that his former master had turned traitor, but it almost seemed preferable to whatever end had forced him to betray everything he loved.

Anakin also refused to entertain the idea that he was dead.

x

When the war ended, the Hero With No Fear was popular among rebuilders. Although it was impossible for the Jedi to act in their former role as peacekeepers, they could assist where they were invited by their former allies.

Anakin was invited to many planets. The latest was Landarik, home to the Lady Rati, Dame Marg, and their people.

X

Lady Rati introduced herself by standing before the landing pad in regalia that was reminiscent of Naboo’s extravagance. She introduced Dame Magi, who wore simpler clothing and stood demurely at her left, and led Anakin inside.

The Lady Rati and Dame Magi were human in appearance, but that didn’t say much. Their behaviour was highly formal.

“It’s traditional for us to welcome visitors with a feast,” Lady Rati said, “but I, in this case, I think you will prefer a more direct approach to business. I apologise for your peculiar treatment in advance, but our gifts will make up for our rudeness. My Lady?”

Dame Magi raised her eyes from the floor. They were stunningly green. She smiled shyly. “I will take it from here, my Lady. Master Jedi, please follow me.”

They left down a corridor, and into a small meeting room with large, comfortable couches and decorative plants. “Please wait here, sir.”

Anakin was left in the meeting room. This was certainly like no greeting he had had before. Pirates had given him better welcome.

There was a knock at the door, and Anakin opened it.

Before him stood Obi-Wan, eyes downcast and holding a tray with a pitcher of water and two glasses.

“Master?” Anakin gasped.

Obi-Wan flinched.

Anakin took the tray from him, set it down, and guided his disoriented master into the room, sitting him down on a couch. Obi-Wan moved passively at each touch.

“Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Master. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Anakin snorted, but the tone that Obi-Wan said it in contained no annoyance or displeasure at being asked such a question, and it took the humour out of the situation. Something was wrong.. This exchange was a familiar act, and only Anakin was playing his part.

“What’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan blinked and then, in a near-monotone, responded. “I am scared that I will no longer be of use to the Jedi.”

Of use! Anakin internally growled to himself. And yet that was not the most disturbing part of that sentence. His master had spoken of being scared.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Obi-Wan tugged at his beard. “This… creature that I am -- and I can no longer call myself human -- is particularly unsuited--”

“Hold up,” Anakin growled. “You, unsuited?”

There was no response. “Obi-Wan. Say something to me.”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Not that! You haven’t spoken a single word that I haven’t pulled out of you. Where is my Master and what did you do with him?”

It was meant to be a joke. It didn’t come out that way.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond, but Anakin cut him off. “No. Don’t answer that! Just say something… what do you want to tell me?”

“I miss you. I want to serve you, and I am afraid you will reject me for it. I want to go home.”

“I don’t… know what you mean by that, Master. But we can go home. Follow me.”

They left Landarik and no-one tried to stop them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take care of yourself while reading this story.
> 
> This story is abo. It exists within a world where true consent for meaningful acts is difficult to come by. While the characters in this story do their best to maintain healthy relationships, they are fallible. In a real-world setting many of the relationships between the characters could not be considered mutual or balanced because of the intrinsic power that some characters have over others characters. Some characters' lack of power affects their ability to express their thoughts, wants and beliefs in all parts of their lives, and that results in dubious consent -- where a character says yes, but does not have the capacity to say anything else.
> 
> This story is not about sex, does not contain sex, and none of the major characters have been assaulted with sexual penetration. There is, however, a chance that some have had sex used as a weapon against them, and that may affect their re/actions.
> 
> Let me know if you have any specific concerns so that I may warn for them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They begin the trip back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is still "that thing I write when I'm feeling anxious and/or blah", so please don't give me criticism on this work. I'm writing it to help my mood/posit about worldbuilding and abo, not for others to critique me.
> 
> ... I intended this story to be an angst fest but I think my WIP is angst enough, so this will turn into H/C or weird fluff instead.

Obi-Wan was silent on their way to Anakin’s ship. Anakin was giddy. His master – here – back! He kept shooting Obi-Wan looks. Obi-Wan, however, was determined to keep his gaze away from his former Padawan.

“We’re a week out from Coruscant on this thing,” Anakin said as they entered, “It’s a short-hopper, so we’re going via waystations. If you want, you can sleep on the bench.”

He waited for Obi-Wan’s tart response. It didn’t come.

“Al… right then,” Anakin continued. “Yeah. So. Well, I’m piloting.”

No response.

“We can probably get there in half the time if we take a few shortcuts. You know. The ones they don’t guard because the smugglers use them and it’s easier to let them kill themselves than hunt them down.”

No response.

“It’s gonna be wild—” Anakin’s voice trailed high, but decided he really wasn’t going to get a response he headed for the cockpit. His master was a stubborn man and he could outlast Anakin any day. He had no doubts as to Obi-Wan’s ability to keep silent if it suited him.

They rose through the atmosphere and Anakin set a course for the nearest waystation on the path to Coruscant. He looked over his shoulder to the bench, where Obi-Wan was sitting gnawing on his fingernail.

“Hey.”

He pulled the finger away from his mouth.

“Yes?”

“About—” _the serving me thing_. Anakin’s throat closed over before he could speak the words. He’d had a joke ready about _serving_ tea, and dinner, but he couldn’t find the words for it.

_The Republic had plenty of indentured servants, politely serving dinner and tea without the funds to pay for a proper bed._

“You ah, still like tea?” he fumbled.

“Yes.”

“I. Don’t have any tea.”

The flat, annoyed expression he got in return did a wonder for his mood. His master was still in there. He grinned.

Obi-Wan sighed long-sufferingly, and his lip quirked up in an exasperated smile – but he kept a careful eye on Anakin.

X

They docked at the waystation set up on a large asteroid six hours later – Anakin’s craft wasn’t safe to run while sleeping. The waystation was old and unmanned except for a handful of service droids. Anakin sent Obi-Wan off to check the facilities were in good nick while he took a look at the systems – and the droids.

Despite it being some six months since it was last used, the place was in good shape.

Obi-Wan found him poking at a protocol droid in one of the stations’ many service sheds.

“I don’t wanna hear it, he’s grateful for the assistance,” Anakin said automatically at the sight of his master.

“Ok.”

“No that’s not what I – there!” Anakin finished up with the droid and threw shoved the pair of pliers he’d been using back in their spot. “That’s not what I meant. Argue with me.”

“What would be the point in that?”

“The point? It doesn’t need to have a point – _that’s the point._ Because I’m right, and you’re wrong, but you don’t _see_ that and—”

Anakin paused, realisation dawning.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I live to serve.”

There was a note of sarcasm in Obi-Wan’s voice, but Anakin wasn’t about to let that distract him.

“Why.”

“Sorry?”

“Why do you say that. _Why are you doing what I tell you to?_ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could it really be that easy to get information from Obi-Wan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not looking for crit on this story.

“Why do you say that. Why are you doing what I tell you to?”

Obi-Wan smirked and straightened up. He stroked his beard. Oh dear. The Negotiator had a winning plan in mind; Anakin’s Master knew exactly how to outsmart his padawan.

Anakin’s lips thinned. There was no telling what his Master was about to do, what he was about to say. Experience told Anakin that planning was useless. Nothing could stop Obi-Wan like this.

The life support systems of the waystation made little noise; he could hear his heartbeat above that faint fuzz.

Obi-Wan’s eyes lost focus. His arms flopped to his sides. His head hung loose.

“Master? Are you alright?”

Touches to Obi-Wan’s shoulders brought to response. He tilted his Master’s chin up -- jaw lax, no resistance -- and looked him in the eyes. Tiny black pinpricks replaced his all-knowing pupils.

Obi-wan rolled his shoulder. Good. A touch made him hiss and jerk away. Not so good. Anakin stopped trying to hold it.

“What’s wrong with your arm? Did you _do something_?”

“‘S broken.”

“ _Broken?_ You broke your arm?”

“Not me. Speedster.”

“We haven’t been around any speedsters!”

“Yellow -- hit me. Pow. Ouch.”

“Yellow… that was years ago! What’s wrong with you?”

“Arm.”

“Hand it here.” Anakin held out his hands. Obi-Wan held his supposedly-broken arm out of reach. He squinted down at it, and his eyes crossed.

“I… I have…. Is m’arm broken?”

“Is your--no your arm isn’t broken! Why would you...” Anakin groaned. “Just sit down before you fall over.”

Obi-Wan prodded at his arm, ignoring Anakin. What a time for him to stop doing what Anakin said. “Look, you need to sit down or you’ll fall over.”

Obi-Wan seemed to consider that. He stood still for a moment, and then his head shook. “You’re not my Master.”

“Fine. Stand there. _Fall over_.”

If his master wanted to do that, he could. Anakin wasn’t going to stop him. He had dinner to make, and bed to sleep in. Obi-Wan could do what he _wanted_.

The waystation was stocked with the usual fare of dehydrated and powdered foods. There were various kinds of meats, sugars, and kinds of milk. Despite eating his fair share rations during the war, most of these were new to him. Fortunately, there was a guide as to which foods were palatable for which species.

There wasn’t, however, any instructions for cooking.

Anakin chose a few packets of dried blue milk powder, a grain that was compatible with human stomachs, some sort of dried bugs and a flavour sachet. It would have to do. Obi-Wan wasn’t cooperating. If he cared, he’d get his arse up to the kitchen and help.

Well, if he hadn’t fallen over and _really_ broken his arm in the last five minutes.

Anakin hissed at the thought.

_It’d be his own fault!_

The kitchen contained nothing like an open flame: too dangerous in the artificial atmosphere of the waystation. There was no flame to turn on, the matches to strike, and that… sucked. Anakin could use a little firey destruction right now.

He contented himself with ripping open the packets of dry food and dumping the grain, milk, and flavour in the cooker. He’d tease Obi-Wan with the bugs.

Obi-Wan should be doing this. He probably went and made himself ill on purpose. He probably knew it would freak Anakin out, make him worry and scare him _shitless_.

Anakin slammed his hand against the cooker’s start button.

Obi-Wan’s pupils had been tiny, like a beam of light was shining right into them, or he was drugged out on painkillers. He better not have injured himself!

His master could handle himself.

Anakin crossed his arms and watched the timer on the cooker. He continued watching it until an alarm blared and the cooker switched off with ten minutes still to go. Anakin opened the lid of the cooker with trepidation.

It smelled burnt. His nose wrinkled. Great. The cooker, clearly, had not gotten the maintenance it needed. Still, the food was edible! He spooned some into bowls, crowned Obi-Wan’s with a large insect, and went to find him.

Obi-Wan had sat down against a wall, curled into a ball, and was cradling his arm. For a moment, Anakin couldn’t walk another step. This was his master, confused and apparently drugged.

Had someone done this to him?

_Had someone programmed the droids here to do something to him?_

He shook his head. Nonsense. Obi-Wan perked up as he sat down beside him. Anakin held out a bowel, and Obi-Wan looked at it without taking it.

Anakin waggled the bow. “Look, food! Yum yum!”

Obi-Wan’s brow scrunched up into a glare. He could still tell he was being mocked. Good -- his brain was working _somewhere_ in there. “You need help eating?”

“Shh,” Obi-Wan answered. He looked around the room, slowly taking in each meter of the bare grey wall but not seeming to see any of it. “Anakin, they’re here!”

“Who?”

“The Starnought rebels!”

Starnought -- a city name from a mission from Anakin’s padawan days. The details were blurry.

“Well, how about you eat while you watch them?”

Obi-wan reached for the bowel and knocked it out of Anakin’s hands. Porridge spilled all over Anakin’s knee. He threw his hands up. This was enough.

“Look, I’m going to feed you. I’ll tie you up if I have to, and then I’ll tie you to a bed if that’s what it takes to keep you out of trouble.”

There was a silence where Obi-Wan’s joking retort belonged. Anakin scooped up a spoonful of his _own_ porridge and approached Obi-wan with it.

Obi-Wan tilted his head away.

“Oh come on! It’s like trying to feed a baby! Eat, dammit!”

He tried pressing the spoon to Obi-wan’s lips and pulled at his jaw--

(His master done this on Tattooine, when he’d been ill and hadn’t wanted to take his medicine. He clenched his jaw, closed his mouth, and got his nose squeezed for his trouble. He held his breath. He held it until he felt his body would cave in, but his master always, always won.)

Anakin dropped the spoon.

“Alright.”

He stood up. His body was trembling. He found his way to the Waystation’s transmitter and pressed in one of the Temple’s contact codes.

The connection opened, and a small blue figure of Mace Windu appeared.

“I found Obi-Wan," he blurted.

_Kriff. Why had he said that?_


	4. Any Questions?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'll no longer be continuing this work so if youre curious / have any questions about the worldbuilding, or what's happened to the characters, let me know in the comments.

As stated in the chapter summary:

Hi everyone, I'll no longer be continuing this work so if youre curious / have any questions about the worldbuilding, or what's happened to the characters, let me know in the comments.


End file.
